


kiwi

by iphido



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Flash Fic, Gen, M/M, ft. bokuto and hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphido/pseuds/iphido
Summary: Like all things that have ever gone wrong in his life, it’s Atsumu’s fault.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 186





	kiwi

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is borderline crack okay. i’m aware it's very silly but i missed osaaka so much, so please enjoy

Like all things that have ever gone wrong in his life, it’s Atsumu’s fault.

Osamu, a responsible adult, is budgeting at the kitchen table, minding his own business, surrounded by spreadsheets. He’s using his favorite pen, which Keiji bought for him on a trip to Hokkaido. Atsumu and his teammates are in his room, filming something for his Youtube channel. They’re making slime or something equally juvenile. Occasionally their muffled peals of laughter drift down the hall. Osamu is mostly focused on the task at hand, but sometimes the image of Keiji wearing an Onigiri Miya shirt pops into his head and distracts him.

Which is why he doesn’t notice his brother approaching from behind until there’s a sudden impact against his head and Atsumu’s ugly cackle.

“Smack cam!”

Immediately, Osamu whirls, screeches, and claws at Atsumu’s arm, cursing. “Are you fucking five, can’t you see I’m busy, dipshit! Let go of me!”

Atsumu’s still laughing, holding up his phone camera. There’s a latex glove covering his hand.

“Get your hand off me! You look like a fucking fool!”

“Sorry, Samu. I couldn’t resist.” Atsumu pockets his phone.

“I’m sure your stupid TikTok followers will love your prank. Now unhand me.”

“There’s over a million of them, so joke’s on you.” Atsumu tugs. Painfully.

“What the fuck, stop pulling!”

“I’m not holding on to you!”

“Just let go!”

“I’m trying!”

This is bad. Osamu knows it in his bones, the same way he knew Atsumu was about to get him in trouble at home, even though it was _Tsumu’s_ fault the bleach got to Dad’s old university sweatshirt. “I swear to god, if we can’t get out of this mess—”

“Um, Tsum-tsum?”

In his rage, it had slipped Osamu’s mind that there are others in the apartment. Bokuto stares at them, looking remarkably alarmed. Hinata peeks out from behind his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Was there glue in that hand?”

“Yeahhh…”

“You know that’s permanent glue we’re using, right Atsumu-san?” says Hinata.

“It’s what,” Osamu says, at the same time Atsumu does.

“Permanent,” says Bokuto. “Like, gorilla glue.”

Osamu lets that sink in. There’s a latex glove covered in permanent glue currently latched to his head of dark, thick, healthy hair. Hair that he knows for a fact Keiji loves. Keiji likes to run his fingers idly through it, on the couch while they watch a movie or while Osamu cooks omurice in the mornings. Keiji likes to pull on it when Osamu does fancy things with his mouth. Osamu likes when Keiji pulls on it. He’s already starting to mourn.

Atsumu is freaking out. “It’s what! Since when have we been using permanent! I thought it was just white glue! What kind of slime recipe uses permanent glue!”

“Well you’re supposed to mix it with other things! And you’re not supposed to put it directly on a person!”

“That would’ve been helpful to know before I did this! And you know what would’ve been even more helpful? Stopping me before I left the room!”

“Hinata made a cool swirl in his, we were both distracted!”

“This is why we need Omi-kun to supervi—”

“Hinata-kun,” Osamu says, low. The room falls silent. He breathes through his teeth.

“Y-yes, Osamu-san?”

“The clippers are in a pouch in the cupboard underneath my bathroom sink. Fetch them, please.”

“Okay!” Hinata squeaks, scurrying away.

“Bokuto-san. Would you mind guarding the front door?”

“Guarding?”

“You can just stand by the genkan. Don’t let Atsumu escape. Because once he gets his hand out of that glove, and we get this thing off my head,” Osamu snaps his gaze to his brother, “I’m going to kill him.”

Atsumu swallows audibly. Hinata returns with the clippers.

Joke’s on him, indeed.

“It looks really good actually, Samu-samu!”

Osamu stares at his reflection in the mirror. Even though the bathroom is barely big enough for two grown men, let alone four, everyone has packed themselves in. They’re staring as well. They’ve put a plastic bag over the sink and around his shoulders. In the trash bin, Osamu knows, is a gnarled mass of blue latex covered in tufts of black hair.

“Thanks, Bokkun.”

“I agree! Not many guys can pull off buzzcuts,” says Hinata. “I only know, like, two. Well, three now.”

“For some reason, I feel like Tsum-tsum wouldn’t look as good bald, even though you guys have the same face technically,” says Bokuto. His face twitches like he’s about to smile, but it’s aborted when he catches Osamu’s expression.

Osamu has been bald before. Right after high school, when he decided to stop dyeing his hair gray, he just shaved it all off. He was tired of the bleach and the chemicals, so if he wanted to go back to black, might as well start from scratch. His mother called him dashing and strong-looking. So he knows Bokuto and Hinata aren’t lying, even though he’s not as skinny as he was at eighteen and the faint shadow of his hair might interact differently with the contours of his face. The difference between then and now is that he’d done it by choice.

Atsumu is afraid. Osamu can feel it coming off him in waves. He’s fiddling with the clippers and guards and the pouch that holds them, avoiding Osamu’s gaze. But more than afraid, he’s guilty.

Osamu sighs. “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but…” He makes eye contact with them in the mirror. “Could you guys leave? My house?”

Bokuto and Hinata share a sad, understanding look. “Sure,” Bokuto says. He claps Osamu on the shoulder and squeezes out of the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, Osamu-san. Hair grows back,” Hinata says. “Thanks for lending us your apartment. Good luck, Atsumu-san,” he says at the end. Then he leaves too.

Atsumu’s shoulders are tense and brittle. He screws up his face and lifts his gaze slowly to meet Osamu’s. “I’m sorry, Samu…”

“You owe me,” Osamu starts, “about a decade of my life.”

Atsumu’s lip wobbles. He looks like he’s about to cry. “I’m really sorry…”

Osamu wants to deck him, because whose head just got shaved? He closes his eyes and rubs his face. “Just get out of here before Akaashi comes home to a crime scene.”

“Okayyy…” Atsumu mumbles, shuffling away like some abandoned puppy. Osamu barely resists the urge to pummel him into the tile and lets him drag his feet out of the apartment.

The front doorknob clicks as keys rattle it open. Osamu can’t bring himself to even lift his head. He hasn’t moved since he shoved a cap on his head and settled into the couch, brooding. Before that he tried to continue his task from earlier, to no avail.

“ _Tadaima_ ,” Keiji’s sweet voice calls. Normally it’s a balm to his soul, but right now Osamu feels only dread.

“ _Okaeri_.” Wow, god, that sounded dark.

“Osamu?” Keiji has toed off his shoes and rounded the coffee table, dropping his bag by the foot of the TV stand. He takes in the scene: Osamu’s silent anger, his crossed arms, the black TV screen. “What happened? Wasn’t Bokuto-san supposed to come over? Why are you wearing a cap inside?”

“Bokkun did come over.” Osamu flares his nostrils. “Atsumu happened.”

“He did text me an apology earlier. I thought he’d chosen the wrong recipient, though.”

“I’m the one that deserves an apology.” Who cares that Atsumu said it twice in the bathroom and has texted him about thirty more times since that he was sorry.

“Hmm,” Keiji says. He moves to stand between Osamu’s spread thighs. He reaches down, cups Osamu’s jaw, tilting his head up, and blinks. “Oh my.”

“Just do it,” Osamu grumbles, uncrossing his arms, letting them flop to his sides.

Keiji gently tugs the cap off his head, making Osamu shiver. He stares, and stares.

That’s the thing about Keiji. His poker face is so good it can rival Kita-san’s. Osamu can’t decipher what the hell he’s thinking half the time, only that he’s thinking hard. But Keiji has other tells.

Keiji stares. Osamu almost begins to squirm under the scrutiny. Then he notices the slow, crimson flush rising from Keiji’s neck, to his ears, to his cheeks. Keiji’s eyes widen minutely the more he stares.

“You like it,” Osamu says incredulously.

“I prefer your old hair.” Keiji blushes harder as Osamu grips his waist and pulls him into his lap. “You look like a kiwi.”

“ _You like it_.”

“I’ve had a theory for a while now that you would look good with a buzzcut.” Keiji flicks Osamu’s ears once. “Whoever cut it did a good job on your hairline. Very crisp.” He runs his big hands from Osamu’s forehead, up to the crown, down the back of his head to his nape. Osamu shudders.

“Wanna match? I can grab the clippers right now.”

“You of all people know that my hair is my best feature. I’m nothing without it.”

Osamu begs to differ. He likes Keiji’s eyes more. But Keiji’s hair _is_ nice—kitten-soft and the envy of Osamu’s mother. “Untrue. We could look like yakuza. Two big bald men.”

Keiji laughs. “Two yakuza in AEON shopping for chicken breast and scallions.”

“Yakuza need to eat, too!”

“Maybe they need a chef. I’m sure it’d be much more lucrative than what you’ve got going on right now.” Keiji keeps running his blunt nails across Osamu’s scalp, which feels—

“You,” Osamu gives him a peck, “should go shower before we get carried away. In the meantime, I’ll look for job openings in the Yamaguchi-gumi culinary sector.”

“Good luck with that.” Keiji kisses him, long and sweet. A promise. “You look good, Osamu,” he whispers, before climbing out of his lap and heading to the bathroom.

Osamu still has plans to murder his brother, but maybe that can wait. Hair grows back, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> osamu bald am i right XDDD but he would actually look so good methinks
> 
> i've tried to publish at least one work since i first started my streak this year but i didnt get to in november :( school and all. im trying to write shorter works to get back into the swing of things. please look forward to what december (hopefully) has in store!


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